


Naughty and Nice

by PenguinofProse



Series: Smutty Saturdays [17]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, F/M, Festive Smut, Festive smut with feelings, Smut, festive smut with festive feelings, smut with feelings, stocking-based misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28173849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: The great stocking fiasco of 2149.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Smutty Saturdays [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930432
Comments: 10
Kudos: 111





	Naughty and Nice

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a festive smutty Saturday featuring some stockings and a misunderstanding and some anal. Probably don't read it if that's something you hate. We're set once again in a post-S1 AU at the dropship camp. Huge thanks to Stormkpr for betaing it as always. Happy reading!

Bellamy is really proud of the stockings.

They're the finishing touch to the Christmas experience, he thinks. Sure, he maybe wasn't expecting them to be quite so flimsy and... net-like? But he's read his old Earth literature and he knows that no Christmas celebration is complete without stockings. Niylah only had two pairs – who knew stockings came in pairs? - so he's only been able to give them to his sister, Clarke, Raven and Miller. But yes, the point stands. He's proud of the stockings.

He's proud of everything else he's done to make this the perfect Christmas at the dropship camp, too. He's wandered around dishing out presents of fruit and warm clothing to the younger kids, saying _ho ho ho_ a great deal as he goes. He's given slightly more particular presents to a few people he's close to – a knife for his sister, a fur hat for Miller, and a few scavenged tools for Raven.

His only problem is Clarke. He hasn't got a decent gift for Clarke. He's got her some pieces of charcoal to draw with but that's really just burnt wood when all's said and done, isn't it? Rather too close to the coal that Santa would give a naughty child. He's pretty certain it doesn't do justice to the substantial crush on her he's been failing to hide for a good couple of months now.

He sort of has a silly dream that he might offer her something else. Somewhere in the back of his mind he's been considering gifting her an orgasm for Christmas. But there are a couple of problems with that notion, he knows. First and foremost, Clarke probably doesn't want an orgasm from him.

And worst of all? He's not sure he would have the self control to stop at one.

He gathers his courage. It's late afternoon, now, and the light is fading fast. He doesn't have much of Christmas day left. He just needs to suck it up and go give her the damn burnt wood.

"Clarke. Hey." She's standing at the water barrel, refilling the buckets for med bay. "You want me to get those?"

"I got this." She tells him, as he knew she would.

"But I want to help."

"You want an excuse to flex your arms in front of the entire camp, more like." She teases him, grabbing the buckets and starting to walk.

He follows her, silent and somewhat disorientated. He quite likes flirting with Clarke and teasing her – nothing major, just unsettling her with a passing comment about her gorgeous hair or her snarky attitude or her well-hidden sense of humour.

OK. Well. Sometimes he gets a bit carried away.

The point is, however much he enjoys sending comments like that her way, he never copes that well when she turns it back at him. He always gets oddly flustered when she teases him, or when she says little things like that which imply she might have very occasionally checked him out somewhat. He could swear he's a confident guy but Clarke – she has a way of getting him hot under the collar.

By the time they arrive in med bay, he's more or less collected his composure.

"I just came to give you your Christmas gift." He says, hands clasped at his hips in the hope that will make him look more in control, here.

"There's more?" She asks, frowning at him. "You know it wasn't fair to take us all by surprise like this. We'd have got you gifts too. Springing some old Earth tradition on us just so you can spoil us all -"

"I wanted to do a nice thing." He argues.

"Well maybe we want to be allowed to do something nice for you once in a while, too."

He gulps. She sounded pretty passionate about the idea, there. Almost like she really does want to spoil him back. No. He can't let himself dwell on that.

He smirks slightly, trots out the line he's been practising as he hands over her gift. "So I had a bit of trouble choosing your gift. I couldn't decide whether you'd been naughty or nice. So this isn't quite coal but it's the next best thing."

She laughs, and he brightens at the sound. "Thanks for nothing, Bellamy. And thanks for the charcoal. But you know you love me really."

He gulps. He thinks he might do. But he thinks he's probably not supposed to admit that here and now. "You're a thorn in in my side." He accuses her cheerfully.

"Hey, we haven't argued properly in about a month now."

"So what was that yesterday – _improper_ arguing?" He jokes.

She laughs a little louder, steps a little closer to him. "Like I said, you can't just spring a big occasion on us without warning. We would have wanted to have time to get gifts, too."

He frowns. Clarke keeps saying that, as if she feels almost hurt that he didn't trust her with sharing his plans. He thought it was a nice surprise, damn it. He didn't realise she'd get all... prickly about it.

She continues speaking before he has decided how to reply.

"It wasn't just that. I was a little hurt." She gives a self-deprecating and rather stiff chuckle. "For a moment I thought you were giving me those stockings because... you know... _stockings_. But then you said one of them was for your sister and I realised you really _didn't_ mean that."

"What do you mean – _stockings_?" He asks, deeply puzzled.

She stares up at him, evidently confused. "You know, _stockings_. Please tell me you know about stockings."

He shakes his head, embarrassed. He hates looking foolish in front of Clarke. "I just know they're used for Christmas gifts."

"Christmas stockings are usually a different kind of stockings. They're bright coloured ones made especially for Christmas. I've seen them in movies." She explains patiently.

Oh. Well. That explains it. "We didn't watch movies when I was a kid. Didn't have a screen. So I've only read about them in books."

"Well that's OK. It was a nice thought." She tells him, smiling in reassurance.

There's a beat of silence. He cannot help but feel that she's not fully explained herself, here. She's explained what Christmas stockings look like, but she hasn't explained what _these_ stockings are really for.

"So these -"

"Stockings -"

They both start talking at once, then stop abruptly. Bellamy gestures for her to continue, and she does.

"These are different stockings. Historically people used to just wear them as something like socks. But by the time of the bombs they had... different connotations."

No. He's still not getting it. He's absolutely mortified, now, at his ignorance, and Clarke is flushing, and he just doesn't understand what's so terrible about stockings.

"They're lingerie." Clarke takes pity and says it outright. "They were worn as... sex outfits."

"I know what lingerie is." He snaps, even more mortified. He didn't realise it was possible for him to be any more embarrassed until this moment.

"Well apparently not – you just gave your sister a solitary stocking for Christmas." Clarke teases brightly.

"I just gave Miller and Raven a stocking each for Christmas." He points out, trying to laugh at himself and not entirely succeeding.

"Yeah. Miller thought it was hysterical. He offered to donate me his."

There she goes again. There's Clarke, implying that she'd have liked to receive a pair of stockings from him. There's Clarke, implying that she would accept a gift of lingerie from him.

Wow.

He clears his throat, fishes for something useful to say.

"Don't take Miller's. You wont get a matching pair that way. I'll tell O there's been a misunderstanding and she has to give hers back."

Clarke laughs lightly, steps a little closer to him. Huh. She really is very close now, and he thinks she might be looking at his lips.

But she's not closing that last bit of distance. And he can't. He's simply incapable of doing that until he knows for sure he's read this right. He's pretty sure he wouldn't survive being rejected by Clarke.

"You know, that charcoal was only the first part of your present." He whispers, throat dry. "I was going to gift you a couple of rounds of oral as well if you're interested."

She frowns, makes a great show of considering his offer. He wishes she'd hurry up and put him out of his misery – teasing him like this is not going to get her on the nice list for next year.

"I'm actually not a huge fan of oral." She says at last.

His heart sinks. He's pretty certain there's no one on this Earth who doesn't like oral. It's just not a thing, right? Everyone he's ever taken back to his tent has been fond of his mouth. So this must be Clarke trying to let him down gently, trying to show him that the teasing they share is _friendly_ teasing.

Damn it. He really did think they were flirting. Clearly he's not the master of seduction he thinks he is. But if she's not interested, why the hell does she want stockings from him?

It turns out she's not done talking. She swallows loudly, eyes fixed on his chest as she keeps speaking.

"Can I maybe trade the couple of rounds of oral for one with your fingers or cock?" She asks, quiet but steady. "Or maybe even some ass play? You have no idea how difficult it is to find someone who's happy with butt stuff round here." He gulps in a stunned breath. She's interested in that? _All_ of that? He can definitely help her out with that.

"I guess maybe you've already noticed this today but I do like giving more than receiving." He jokes. "So there's really no need to choose just one."

"You sure? I wouldn't want to take up sex time you were planning to gift to Miller or Raven." She jokes, a little stiffly, he thinks.

"You're really going to make me say it, aren't you? Some cheesy line about how all I want for Christmas is you?" He teases softly, reaching a gentle arm around her waist.

She smiles somewhat at that, evidently reassured. She purses her lips, thoughtful, just for a moment.

And then she reaches up on her toes to kiss him soundly.

He kisses her back, of course. He's been a bit of a fool today, by all accounts, but he's not _that_ much of a fool. He holds her close against him, kisses her deeply, fails to hold back a groan as she starts squeezing at his butt through his clothes.

He pulls away, breathless, and grins down at her. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours." She says easily, starting to drag him by his hand towards the door of med bay.

He goes willingly enough. He supposes the kids might talk when they see the two of them hand in hand rushing across the camp, but he's really too blissfully happy to care, in this moment.

"Do you really not like oral?" He asks her in a whisper as they walk.

She snorts. "I don't _hate_ it. I can take it or leave it. I've had some pretty underwhelming experiences of it. And – and if I was only going to get one Christmas gift from you, I'd rather make the most of it. I'd rather do something else where I really get to appreciate _you_."

"Yeah, you probably don't need to worry about that." He says, carefully light. "I just thought that _a couple of rounds of oral_ was a more acceptable Christmas gift than a lifetime supply of sexual favours."

"That's a shame. It's the only thing I have to offer you, seeing as you sprang Christmas on me yesterday and all." She jokes, but he can hear real insecurity beneath her words.

"Sounds like a perfect gift." He assures her easily.

They've arrived at his tent, now. He's not sure where they go from here. As usual, he and Clarke have done things in a frankly bizarre order – he's ended up buying her lingerie before they've even got together, and now they've agreed to get each other off for the foreseeable future before they've even done it one time. But their relationship wouldn't be what it is without being beautifully chaotic – that's life on the ground.

"You know what you said about butt stuff?" He asks, carefully casual.

Clarke stiffens. "Oh, that's OK. If you're not into it that's fine. The lifetime supply of sexual favours still stands. I just thought I'd never know whether you were into it if I didn't mention it."

"No, it's not that. I'm – ah – really into it. Giving and receiving." He clarifies. He feels a little awkward jumping straight into talking about this, but nowhere near as awkward as he felt earlier in that damn conversation about stockings.

"OK. Great." She nods eagerly, reaches out to squeeze his hand. "So maybe if you give me your cock today, my late Christmas gift to you can be to find something we can use as a toy on you next time?"

He grins. Has he mentioned he's a little head-over-heels for this woman? The way she's just confidently and decisively getting on with this is doing funny things to his insides – and to his cock.

He reaches out for her, starts kissing her deeply. He figures that now they've more or less figured out what they want to try today there's no need to talk any longer. He holds her close, palms at her butt through her clothes. He's going to have his cock buried in this stunning ass, soon. He's going to be able to see himself sliding in and out between her butt cheeks and -

And he should probably stop visualising it right about there, otherwise this isn't going to last very long at all.

It's Clarke who sets the pace for the next few minutes, stripping off his clothes one piece at a time, kissing as much of his torso as she can reach, heading back to his lips every few seconds as if she's missed them even in such a short time away. Bellamy is more than content to stand still and let her work. He loves this dynamic they have between them – she may have told him that he'll be the one doing the screwing today, but she's still very much in charge. He likes the way they can somehow _both_ be in charge, and yet it still works.

He strips her shirt off, throws her bra into a corner not much later. He thinks her breasts deserve a bit of attention. She's a lot shorter than him, so he can't quite reach them with his mouth from here.

He finds a better solution. He kneels at her feet, and straining up from there he can just about take a nipple in his mouth, palm at her other breast, have her gasping in shocked pleasure. She tangles her fingers in his hair, holds him tight against her chest, and it's incredible.

It's like one of her hugs, only a thousand times better.

"Bellamy."

"Mhmm." It's difficult to talk with a mouth full of tit.

"You going to give me your cock eventually?"

He snorts out half a laugh, mouth still full. He plans on giving her his cock eventually, yes, but he's not going to leave this very pleasant place on her chest right away, thank you very much.

He gets started on warming her up, instead. He wants her thoroughly ready before he tries to put his cock _anywhere_. He just can't risk hurting her. And he knows from experience that the surest way of getting her butt relaxed and ready for him is to have her soundly turned on and her pussy wet and open, too. So he unfastens her waistband and starts teasing her with his fingers, pussy first. She's already wet but he wants her just a little more relaxed before he goes anywhere near her ass.

"That's good." Clarke murmurs approvingly, stooping to press a kiss to the top of his head where it's still clasped to her breast.

He makes a humming sound, somewhere between acknowledging her praise and thanking for it, with maybe a hint of smugness thrown in.

At last, he figures it's time to leave her breasts alone. They'll still be there the next time they have sex, and the time after that, he presumes. He pulls his head back, grins up at her.

"Shall we take this to the bed?"

She nods, eager, tugs off the trousers that are crumpled round her knees and kicks off her boots. He does the same, then sprawls over his makeshift mattress, arms open for her.

She settles straight into his arms, kissing him urgently, toying with his cock with gentle fingers. He should probably ask her not to do that too much, or this isn't going to last very long. He's already hard and throbbing under her touch.

He figures they've played around long enough, now. There's something to be said for foreplay, of course, but he's keen to get onto the main event while they're both in a state to enjoy it. The way he sees it, there's no point waiting till they're on the brink of coming before getting to the good stuff.

He flips her over, arranges her hips to his liking by lifting them into place. To his utter confusion, she groans.

"Clarke? What is it?"

"Just – your hands." She tells him, giggling slightly at herself. "And the way you just _lifted_ me like that. It's hot."

Huh. Clarke finds it hot when he shows off his strength. Maybe he'll have to bear that in mind for future reference.

Maybe there's a reason she made that joke about flexing his arms around camp earlier.

His confidence is flying pretty high as he reaches for a pot of the oil that serves as lube round here. He coats a finger generously and then eases it into her ass to check she's ready. She's relaxed and open, and it's easy. He thinks they're good to go, but he needs to check with Clarke, of course.

"You good?" He asks, slipping his finger out.

"Yeah. Just – slowly, please? You're not small."

He smiles slightly, presses a kiss to her back. He's not got the biggest cock in the world, he's pretty sure. But it's a decent size, even if he does say so himself, and Clarke's not a big woman. Of course he's going to take it slowly.

He coats his cock in lube. Then he adds a bit more for good measure - not that he's nervous about this, or anything. He's cool and calm, and he's had sex rather often before now. He just really wants to get this right.

And then slowly, carefully, he starts to slide into her ass.

She gasps, and he freezes. She wriggles her hips a little, evidently seeking a better angle.

"I think I'm good. Keep going."

She is good, it turns out. He slips in pretty easily after that, hears Clarke's breath hitch in pleasure.

"You can start moving." She tells him, and it's more order than suggestion.

So he does start moving. He rocks his hips, slowly at first, then more urgently. He slips a couple of fingers into her pussy, too, tries to angle it so the heel of his hand is rubbing her clit. The more stimulation he can give her, the better, he figures. He knows not a lot of women can come from ass alone.

He kneels as high as he can whilst doing all that, because he wants to enjoy the view. The sight of his cock sliding between Clarke's butt cheeks and into her ass is every bit as good as he knew it would be. But better than he expected are the noises she makes – loud, low moans which he's pretty sure half the camp must be hearing.

Let them hear. He's literally never felt so smug in his life, he's pretty sure. He wants the whole world to hear that Clarke is losing her mind over him.

He tries to take it reasonably slow, tries to make the moment last. But it cannot last forever, and when Clarke starts panting loudly, her desperate breathing interrupting her own moans of pleasure, he knows she must be nearly there.

"I've got you." He promises, working his fingers a little faster.

She moans again, her hands fisting in the furs of his bed. And then she's there, and it's almost too much for him. She's clenching around his cock and his fingers all at once, grinding her hips into his hand. She's no longer moaning, but rather eerily, breathlessly silent.

And then she sighs a long, loud sigh.

He's not sure what to do. He's literally seconds away from coming but he doesn't want to hurt her. He can feel her ass tightening around him, can feel -

"Pull out and jerk off over my ass." She tells him.

He grins, although he suspects it comes out more like a grimace of pleasure. Once again, she's giving the orders even as he's having his way with her. He loves it, loves the way it's so emphatically _them_.

He pulls out carefully but pretty quickly, because frankly her ass is trying to squeeze him out anyway now she's done. After that, it's a matter of maybe a dozen firm tugs with his hand and then he's coming, spilling all over her butt and the hollow of her back, painting her as his in a way that feels more hotly possessive than it probably should.

When he's done, she turns her neck to peer at him, offers him a cheeky grin. And then she sprawls on her front, starfishing right in the middle of his bed.

"You staying here or something?" He asks, teasing, wiping his hands and cock off on his dirty shirt while he looks down at her.

"You're not allowed to throw me out until your come's dried. I want to wear it for the rest of the day."

He gasps, breath sticking in his throat. She really shouldn't spring things like that on him when he's still recovering from an orgasm. Is she trying to make him pass out?

"You want to wear my come?" He echoes. He thought the sex was good but _this_? This is in a league of its own.

"Yeah. Is there a problem with that?"

"No. It's really hot." He assures her, settling in to lie by her side. He slings and arm over her shoulders, and it's not the world's most conventional cuddling position, but he's touching Clarke, so that's good enough for him.

"So how was that?" She asks, carefully light. "More naughty or nice?"

He laughs. "Both. Neither. I don't know – it was _perfect_ for me. You?"

"Yeah. Perfect. Every bit as good as I imagined." She mutters, starting to sound a little sleepy.

"You imagined this?" He prompts, feeling rather warm inside at the thought.

"Mhmm. Why do you think I was so disappointed about the stockings?"

He grins, presses a kiss to her ear. He's never wanted to kiss anyone's ears before now, but he supposes he might be a little far gone for Clarke.

It seems like maybe she deserves to know that.

"Will it make up for the stockings fiasco if I tell you I'm in love with you?" He asks, nervous, but trying not to sound like he's nervous.

"You're not in love with me." She says, to his surprise, voice pitched unnaturally high. "Everyone says soppy things after sex but you're not in love with me."

"I am – and I think _I_ would know." He argues back. "I was in love with you before we had sex. Now I'm just in love with you _and_ sexually satisfied."

She looks across at him, cheek pressed into his pillow. Good. He hopes it smells of her forever. See? He totally is in love with her. He stares at her harder than is probably polite, takes in the vulnerable look in her eyes.

"You really mean that?" She asks quietly.

"I really mean it. I promise. I – I'm not Finn."

She quirks her lips in half a sad smile. "He's not the only one who's ever disappointed me."

"I'm sorry. But I swear I mean it. And I'll say it again in the morning so you know it's not just the sex hormones talking."

"Thanks." She smiles at him a little more widely, a lot less sadly. "And in the morning I'll tell you I love you too."

He grins at her, overwhelmingly happy, leans forward to kiss her softly. The angle is all wrong, of course, but like everything else about their relationship they make it work despite the circumstances.

He was wrong about the stockings this morning, it turns out. They are not the perfect finishing touch to the Christmas experience.

That's a title that will have to go to Clarke.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
